


Natural Causes

by Stormsong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Chuck is God, Gen, Heaven, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 13:34:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10922835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormsong/pseuds/Stormsong
Summary: It wasn't the alcohol that finally killed him. Nor even something supernatural.





	Natural Causes

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of a pic I saw on the net once upon a time.

The man in the bed once had blonde hair, but that had been when he was young. Blonde hair had grown dark as he grew from child to adult. Now it was white as snow. If the man were going to open his eyes the color would have been as bright as ever. But he wasn't going to open them that day, or any that followed. Not while his soul still resided in his body.

A hand came to rest on his a moment. The two hands were much alike. One slightly larger than the other. Both had once been tough, strong, rough, and with scared palms. The only thing the two hands shared now was the scars on their palms. The hand that belonged to the man on the bed was bony with tissue paper thin skin, fragile and soft. The hand of the other man didn't stay long. He patted the fragile hand and walked away. It was hard for him to see his brother like this.

Once the brother left the room, that was it. He wasn't going back in. The brother on the bed would understand. He was known for not liking 'chick-flick moments' anyhow. So the pat on hand was the younger brother's last good-bye. No one blamed the young-looking man. No one blamed him for turning to his lover and crying silent tears, either.

The sadness in the air was tinged with happiness.

While the younger brother of the man on the bed was in mourning, sad to see his brother go, others were happy or content. Not happy that the man on the bed was dying, but happy in the manner of his passing. Even the younger brother could not argue that.

The man on the bed was once one of the greatest Hunters of the Continental United States. It's rare for a Hunter to grow old. Rarer for one to die of natural causes.

The younger brother of the one on the bed would do neither. He would not grow old nor die of natural causes; if he died at all. The younger brother had chosen to Bond to his archangel lover. The older had chosen not to. That did not mean that the older brother had loved his angel lover any less. Far from it. He had simply chosen not to live forever.

Two beings that looked like men sat by the bed with playing cards in their hands. The game didn't matter. It was something to do while they waited. Besides, the two beings knew each other too well for them to play seriously.

The one that currently went by Chuck was the first to break the silence. "I'm surprised you came yourself; instead of sending a minion." The voice of the vessel was not a good match to the being that resided within. Whereas the voice was weak and seemed to have a permanent whine to it it was not a voice one would imagine God using. Yet He did.

On the other hand Death's voice was strong and rich; almost at odds coming from an old man, or what appeared to be an old man. "You shouldn't be. I came for the same reason as you. I did tell him that when it was his time that I would collect him myself. The same service I promised to provide his brother if the other Winchester should need it." With long bony, but elegant fingers Death picked a playing card off of a stack, placed it with others in his other hand, considered his choices and plucked one out to discard.

Chuck made a noncommittal sound.

A moment later absolute silence filled the room. The only occupant that needed to breath had stopped doing so.

"It is time," Death informed his companion needlessly. After placing the playing cards down he took a single long step to the man on the bed. With one hand Death reached into the chest and withdrew the soul. "It is time," Death repeated. "Time for you to finally take up permanent residency in Heaven." In an instant Death and the soul he ferried where gone from the room.

...

 

The man in the bed once had blonde hair, but that had been when he was young. Blonde hair had grown dark as he grew from child to adult. The man in the bed was as he saw himself. In what he thought as his best years. Somewhere between late twenties and early thirties. His eyes when he opened them were a bright and vibrant green. His skin was tan and if one cared to look he had a dusting of freckles on his cheeks and across his nose. Even though he would say that his best feature was his kissable lips a certain angel would argue it was the freckles.

The man on the bed thought the angel was cute to think so, but he usually kept that thought to himself.

At that moment though the man on the bed had more important things on his mind. Like finding his angel. So he climbed out of bed, not noticing he wore his favorite outfit, and went in search of the angel.

The man quickly found the angel. He (the vessel the angel used was male) was sitting on their couch, in their living room, waiting. When the man saw this a smile bloomed on his kissable lips. "Hey, Cas."

The angel turned, smiled brightly, stood and walked over to the man. "Hello, Dean."

Dean looked around at the familiar surroundings. "This doesn't look like Memory Lane." When Cas cocked his head Dean explained, "Last time Sam and I were in Heaven we saw some of our favorite memories."

"Ah. I remember. This is where you will be spending your time when you don't wish to visit your favorite memories. Here, I am able to spend time with you."

"Awesome," Dean grinned and drew his angel in for a kiss.

 


End file.
